Rode Hard, Put Up Wet (Rough Riders #2)(56)

The tangy lemony scent of her shampoo drifted up. He kissed the top of her head then reached down and yanked up his pants.


“Why don’t you hop up on the couch and let me return the favor, eh?”


Without responding, Gemma took his hand and led him through the darkened house and upstairs to her bedroom.


He braced himself, expecting she’d turn on the lights. Had she noticed that every time they’d made love, no matter the position, no matter the time of day, it’d been dark?


Or she’d worn the blindfold?


Yes. But so far she hadn’t mentioned it.


He heard the click of the door shutting.


She said, “Take off your clothes and lay on the bed. Facing up.”


“I like the sound of that.” He stripped. “You have some kinda wicked games planned, Gem?”


No answer. Then her nakedness pressed him into the mattress. She was warm. Soft.


Willing. She smelled like heaven and her body felt like sin. Her lips sought his and she kissed him with tenderness that set his alarm bells ringing.


“Hey. What do you say we get this party started?” He slapped her butt. “Slide on up here and let me taste that *.”


“No.”


“Why? I know you didn’t get off when you were blowin’ my mind. You too tired or something?”


“No. Cash. I want you.”


“And luckily I’m right here.”


She rubbed her cheek over his bare chest. “I love the way you touch me. I love how you push me to the limit. I love how you’ve bulldozed through whatever sexual boundaries I might’ve thought I had. I love every single thing we’ve done together.”


“But?”


“But it doesn’t always have to bawdy. Sometimes it can be…sweet.”


He froze.


“Let me show you sweet. Let me make love to you. No lights. No sex toys. No games. No dirty talk. Just you and me and the potential of what it can be between us, Cash.”


For once, he wished he could see her face. He reached for her anyway. “Is this because you need sweetness tonight?”


“No.” Gemma’s lips clung to his after she kissed him. “It’s because you do.”


Her words undid him. Because he couldn’t speak, Cash surrendered to her, in body, mind and soul. The night was the sweetest he’d ever known.


Chapter Twenty-two


Carter McKay wasn’t feeling very sweet at all.


The night was so dark it was like swimming in an inkwell. Only a half moon remained. Clouds obscured it and the stars. So much for his plan to take Macie for a romantic horseback ride.


He reined Deacon to a stop beside Gemma’s barn. Then he dismounted, removed the saddle, blanket and bridle, and led his horse into the last stall. He shoveled a bucketful of oats in the trough and stepped from the dim barn outside into the warm night air with a nearly moonless sky.


Instead of working on plan B and deciding which sweet, romantic words to use on Macie, he found himself irritated he had to be thinking of that kind of shit at all. Why was he sneaking in on horseback? Why couldn’t he just drive his damn truck right up to Macie’s door? Who cared what her father thought?


Evidently Macie did. Which meant he had to care too.


Dammit. Carter glanced at Gemma’s house. Pitch black. He walked toward the faint light glowing from Macie’s camper and put his boot on the pullout step. Should he have brought flowers? A bottle of wine? She probably wouldn’t consider a handful of rainbow-colored condoms and a bottle of lube very damn romantic.


He rapped on the door. The music inside ended abruptly. A curtain fluttered and the door swung outward.


“Dad?”


“No. It’s me. Carter.”


“Carter?”


Was that disappointment in her voice?


She peered behind him, squinting at the darkness. “What are you doing here?


Where’s your truck?”


“I didn’t drive. I rode my horse.”


“Oh. Do you want to come in?”


“Yes.”


He’d forgotten how cramped it was in her camper. Especially since they were avoiding touching. He sat on the bench next to the foldout kitchen table.


“How are the projects going? Sculptures this week, right?” she asked.


Carter looked at her. Really looked at her. And was struck dumb by his stupidity and pride. He couldn’t believe he’d grumbled about having to romance her. She was beautiful and sweet and funny; he was the luckiest guy on the planet for getting a chance to woo her.



“I miss you, Macie.”


“What?” Her hand flew to her throat. A nervous gesture? From stand-offish Macie?


“I miss you.”


“Carter—”


“I miss you.”


“You already said that.”


“It bears repeatin’.”


Talk to her. Ask her questions. Show her you’re interested in her mind, not just her body.